


Wreak Havoc

by Karee_the_wise



Series: Flagshot [3]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: (probably inaccurate medical procedures), Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Conflict, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mission Fic, Newly established relationship, Samson is actually kind of a dick, Slash, Swearing, Trafficking, cuteness, squad is family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:34:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karee_the_wise/pseuds/Karee_the_wise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shit starts to go down after Harley Quinn escapes from Belle Reve, kick-starting a new mission for the squad which successfully  interrupts Rick and Floyd's honey-moon phase. Meanwhile, something untoward is taking place beneath the surface of it all.</p><p>(It begins the week following 'Time-Lapse'.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The squad stared back at Rick, obviously unimpressed, as he explained Colonel Samson’s newly appointed joint-control of Task Force X. He caught Floyd’s eye for a moment, who shrugged nonchalantly as if to say ‘I told you so’.

“Well then,” Rick floundered. “Let’s get on with it; if it helps, just pretend Samson isn’t here.” He stepped forward, waving the squad backwards, to spread out across the warehouse. “Everyone start warming up.”

Samson stood back with his clipboard in hand. Waller has assigned him to observe the training sessions led by Colonel Flag, to make sure that everything was copacetic. He narrowed his eyes and watched patiently as Flag organised the squad, pairing himself up with Lawton whilst leaving Harkness and Santana to spar with Jones, and the ladies were left with themselves. Samson noted down Flag’s personal involvement in the training process, despite it being unnecessary.

After the squad had been sparring for a while, Samson could clearly see how well they had bonded, even since their mission on Rickers Island. The Colonel would’ve been amazed if he wasn’t terrified of the power they wielded together, or the power their cooperation and loyalty gave Colonel Flag. Samson jotted his findings down.

Floyd began to laugh, out of the blue, catching Samson’s attention like a hawk. Him and Colonel Flag were caught up in a close embrace.

Samson’s chest turned cold. “Mr Flag,” he stepped forward purposefully. “Do you join in personally with the whole session?”

The two men parted slowly.

In fact, the entire squad had paused to watch the older Colonel’s approach.

Rick raised an eyebrow at Samson’s condescending tone. “Generally, yes,” he replied, shooting Floyd a quick glance. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Uh oh,” Harley said to Katana, as the entire group migrated almost magnetically towards the action.

Katana nudged her into silence.

Meanwhile, Samson shook his head exasperatedly. “I just think it’s odd, and counterproductive. Personally, I’ve never seen a leader involve themselves in the training of their subordinates; it does nothing for their authority.”

Floyd stepped closer to Rick, who had crossed his arms. “You don’t know shit,” the hitman said, touching the small of Rick’s back with his hand briefly. “R-Flag has great authority, more than you do for sure. And what happened to just observing huh? This isn’t observing; this is interfering.”

Samson’s face was red as he eyed Lawton. “This is exactly what I mean, Flag. You cannot control these criminals; you may have their loyalty, but you certainly don’t have their respect, not in the way that counts.”

“Colonel Samson,” Rick started.

Floyd quickly slipped around him to move into Samson’s space, pushing the Colonel backwards. Samson stumbled and his clipboard fell to the floor, paper billowing up from the crash. “The hell you’re gonna talk to R-Flag that way, I don’t care if you’ve got joint-control or some shit. Flag has our respect; he also happens to be our friend. So fuck you, you self-righteousness dick.”

“Floyd that’s enough,” Rick said, pulling the hitman away. He turned back to see the rest of the squad looking riled up and equally prickly, and try as he might, Rick couldn’t stop his heart from aching pleasantly. He pushed Floyd back towards the squad and faced Colonel Samson head on. “I’m sure Waller won’t want to hear about how detrimental your presence has been here today, because that will do you no good in the long run. So, I won’t be inclined to inform her, if you mind that we don’t have issues with each other in the future.”

Samson choked out a laugh. “Are you threatening me, son?”

Rick could feel the sudden tension in the room. “No, Colonel, I’m not. But it will do you good to remember your place in this operation. Now, shall we continue with the training, or do you want to waste some more of our time?”

Samson knew when to quit. “By all means, Flag, continue. And I’ll continue to observe.”

Rick clenched he jaw briefly, before swivelling toward his squad. “Alright, time to switch up partners.”

By the time Samson had gathered all of his papers, Task Force X had settled into their new pairings and re-started their sparring. The remainder of the training session passed with little consequence, but Samson made sure to keep a close eye on the hitman, always having known that he’d been the one to cause trouble. What Samson hadn’t foreseen was Flag’s condoning of it.

Despite no longer being paired together, Colonel Flag and Lawton still managed to gravitate towards each other. Either with a shared look, a touch, or passing remark. But it was enough to warrant Samson’s attention, just as Lawton’s laugh had before. The men appeared close, closer than any of the other squad members. Yet, no-one else seemed to think anything of it which suggested to Samson that this was not a new phenomenon.

Samson smirked slightly as he noted that down.

…

The walk to Waller’s office was dull as usual, despite the sounds and sights of a thriving Gotham city, or at least the illusion of. The A.R.G.U.S. building was nothing spectacular against the backdrop of larger, wealthier ones. It was also unusually dark on the inside, but considering Waller’s personality, that fact didn’t come as a surprise to Samson.

The Colonel waited patiently on one of the chairs, looking down at the notes on his clipboard as he did so. Yes, he thought, Waller should be quite pleased with his findings.

“Colonel,” Waller came to the door. “You may come in.”

He followed her into her office, shutting the door behind him. Samson took the seat across from her desk.

“What do you have for me, Samson?” Waller asked after getting comfortable.

Samson cleared his throat and glanced at his notes. “The squad is in good form, Ma’am; their training is going well. Flag also participates, which I voiced my concerns about, but he was insistent on continuing.”

Waller nodded. “Flag trains with them? I hardly find that surprising. What about Lawton, how were his interactions with Flag?”

“They seem close, closer than the rest of the squad that is,” Samson admitted. “They fooled around some, but what really stood out was Lawton’s defence of Flag when I criticised him; Lawton was very passionate in assuring me that Flag’s training methods were up to par.”

Waller huffed. Then paused. “And how about the new set of guards at Belle Reve, are they behaving?”

“There have been no problems yet, Ma’am; they’ve been following orders without question,” Samson told her.

“Good,” Waller nodded. “I don’t want Flag hounding my ass about that again. Alright, that’s it; you’re dismissed. I’ll be in touch, Colonel.”

Samson rose and saluted. “Yes, Ma’am.” He strode out.

…

It wasn’t long after Samson had entered his apartment that one of his mobiles rang. The Colonel sighed, shrugging off his jacket, hoping it wasn’t Waller on the other end; there was only so much of that lady he could handle in one day.

He picked up the mobile in question. “Hello?”

“Samson,” a voice replied.

“Graves,” the Colonel greeted.

“Luthor will be contacting you soon, and he’ll want to know whether your work on the inside is paying off.”

Samson nodded, “Tell him he has no need to be concerned; Task Force X is set to crumble.”

“Good,” Graves told him. “I wouldn’t want to be the bringer of bad news. We’ll be in touch.” She hung up.

Samson lowered himself into his armchair, placing the phone down beside him. He ran his hands across his face; it was going to be a long week.


	2. Chapter 2

Floyd had no idea how they’d managed to find the bed. One minute Rick was opening up his cell door for a visit, the next the Colonel had him up against the wall, lips crashing onto his own like they were running out of time. Which, if Floyd thought about it, was actually true; these visit were finite, after all.

“Jesus, Rick,” he gasped as Floyd’s back found the mattress and Rick settled himself heavily over his hips.

“Is this okay?” Rick asked with his mouth against the other’s neck, sucking and nipping gently.

Floyd tried hold back the noises that threatened to break loose if Rick’s mouth didn’t stop being so damn talented at that. “Uh huh; totally okay, definitely okay,” he managed.

Rick, the bastard, laughed. He sat back, with his hands either side of the hitman’s head. “I brought Zoë’s letter,” he said, pulling out an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket.

Unlike usual, Rick was wearing home clothes; faded jeans, white v-neck, leather jacket. Let’s just say that Floyd could really appreciate him in those, especially the jeans, since Rick’s military attire did nothing for that amazing arse of his.

Floyd slipped his hands up over Rick’s bum towards his waist. “Wow, bringing up my daughter. Bit of a turn off, Rick,” he said, reaching up to take the letter. “But I appreciate it, as always; thanks.” Floyd placed the letter on the floor by his bed.

“You’re not going to read it?” Rick asked, shifting slightly. His eyes followed the movement of the hitman’s hand diligently.

Floyd rolled his eyes. “I will, dumbass. Later. Right now though there’s something else I’d rather be doing. Or, someone.”

Rick opened his mouth to reply, only to find the air stolen from him as Floyd flipped them over to push him into the mattress instead. Only, Floyd didn’t settle for straddling. No, Floyd preferred to be nicely nestled between Rick’s legs, which gave him far better access to the man’s face. And he intended to worship that face thoroughly.

Slipping his tongue into Rick’s open mouth was certainly the best thing that had happened all week. Floyd sighed into the kiss, raking his hands through the other man’s hair as he did so. Rick shifted beneath him and the hitman felt legs brush up to wrap around his hips.

An alarm rang out from outside the cell, accompanied by a flashing red light in the corridor.

Rick dropped his legs down and the two men were quick to disentangle themselves from each other.

“The emergency alarm,” Rick clarified, wiping spit from his mouth.

Floyd would’ve totally laughed at how ridiculously ruffled he’d made the other man’s hair, if this was any other situation.

Machine guns began firing nearby. Guards could be seen running through the corridors.

Rick stood up. “I need to find out what the hell is happening.”

“Hey, hey,” Floyd jumped up to grab his arm. “Rick, you’re unarmed. No way I’m just letting you go out there like that.”

Rick glared at him, then rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll contact security.” He reaches for his phone and makes the call.

Floyd peers out of the hatch in his cell door. The action seemed to be dying down a bit.

“What the hell’s going on, Barton?” Rick was gripping his poor phone so firmly that Floyd was worried it would be crushed. “What? Shit,” the Colonel rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay sit tight, I’m on my way.” He pocketed the phone.

The gunfire had stopped, but the siren continued.

“So?” Floyd looked at him expectantly.

“Intruders have broken Harley out,” Rick explained. “They were dressed as guards; no one knew what was happening until it was too late.”

“Fuck,” the hitman said. “Fuck.”

“Exactly,” Rick nodded. “I need to go and check everything out.”

“I’m coming with you,” Floyd stepped to block the doorway.

Rick smirked. “Good, I was gonna ask you to. Come on, let’s go.”

They emerge from the cell cautiously. Belle Reve is quiet, and it’s unnerving. The two men moved side by side with their fists raised preemptively. At the end of the corridor, Rick indicated left with his finger, and they both headed towards the centre of Belle Reve in silence.

It wasn’t long before they came across a group of guards, huddled together, and looking visibly shaken up.

“Men,” Rick said as they approached. “Are you alright?”

Eyes glued to the new arrivals, and the guards seemed only mildly concerned to see that Floyd, in his delightful prisoner’s attire, was loose.

“Fine, sir,” one replied. “Are you Colonel Flag?” His gaze flickered onto the hitman, watching him warily.

“I am,” Rick nodded. “Don’t mind Lawton, he’s safe.”

“Hi, boys,” Floyd sent them a forced smile and a little wave. “Just here to help.”

“They took Harley Quinn, sir,” the guard informed Rick. “Security’s got a team in her cell right now looking for evidence on the attackers. They’re saying it was the Joker.”

Rick tried not to swear again. He sighed. “Okay, I’ll head over there then. Tell Barton that I’ll inform Waller of the situation.” He turned to Floyd. “Let’s go.”

Floyd followed him, thoughts buzzing through his head. His main worry was whether or not Harley wanted to leave, or if the Joker made the decision for her. Fuck, this was messed up.

…

Half an hour later saw Rick and Floyd return back to the latter’s cell.

“How long d’you reckon it’ll take for Waller to respond?” Floyd asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

Rick sighed. “God knows. Soon, hopefully.”

Floyd hummed in response, and lent down to pick up his daughter’s letter. “I think I’ll read this now; I need some good news.”

Rick joined him on the bed, his thigh pressed up against the other man’s. He watched over Floyd’s shoulder as the father read what his daughter had written for him that week. The letter was beautifully laid out, with delicate cursive writing and small drawings along the borders. Rick couldn’t help but smile. Zoë Lawton was truly a gift.

“Hey Rick, there’s a note for you at the bottom,” Floyd grinned.

“Really?” Rick gaped.

“No, I’m lying,” Floyd deadpanned. He rolled his eyes. “Of course there is you dick, here,” the hitman pointed to the final paragraph of writing. “I haven’t read it.”

“Okay,” Rick took the letter out of his hands carefully. Apparently, Zoë wanted to personally thank him for his assistance with her recent biology project, and wishes him a good week. Also, she wrote that her dad’s birthday is coming up and was hoping they could organise a day out together. Rick nodded, he would definitely look into that. “I still don’t understand how Zoë’s your daughter; she’s too sweet.”

“Fuck off,” Floyd shoved the Colonel playfully. “And give that back,” he took the letter from Rick. “What did she write to you about?”

Rick shrugged. “You can read it yourself; it’s nothing secret. I’m serious though, your daughter is literally the nicest person I’ve ever met. How is that possible when you’re a complete dick?”

“Yeah but I’m a dick you make out with regularly now so,” Floyd grinned widely. “That says a lot about your taste in men.”

“True,” Rick chuckled. “But my point still stands.”

…

Flag’s phone buzzed. “Samson’s here,” he said. “He says to round up the squad.”

Floyd sat up. “Only took a couple of hours,” he huffed. The letter had long been put away, joining the rest of his collection under the mattress.

“Yeah,” Rick agreed. “He says we’re going on a man hunt; they’ve run checks on all of the Joker’s known hide-outs, and apparently they got a hit on his current location.” He stared at his phone screen. “Huh. They reckon he’s holed up in a hotel in Las Vegas.”

“Hardly surprising,” Floyd said, standing then holding a hand out to pull Rick up from his spot on the bed. “That bugger’s too wealthy for his own good I swear.”

Rick pocketed his phone. “We better fetch the others. Mission is to bring back Harley, alive, and eliminate the Joker. But Samson says if we can’t catch her alive, we’re to take Harley out too.”

They left the cell, and Floyd slammed the door shut behind him. “I don't like this; I didn’t shoot Harley down when she escaped the first time, and I’m definitely not gonna do it now. You better not fight me on this one.”

“I’m with you, Floyd,” Rick told him as they marched through the prison towards Digger’s cell. “I’m not taking out Harley; not unless it’s life or death.”

“Okay,” Floyd breathed out. “Good; because she’s still squad.”

“I know,” Rick frowned. “Trust me, I know. And I don’t like how Samson appears to be taking charge on this.”

“So its not just me getting a bad feeling from all this?” Floyd asked, Digger’s cell coming into sight.

Rick shook his head. “The attack on Belle Reve was too clean, and tracking down the Joker this quickly…”

“I don’t like it,” Floyd said. “We better watch our backs.”

Rick turned to look at the hitman, eyes sweeping over his face. “Agreed,” he replied, then turned to open Digger’s cell.

“What the fuck is it now?” Digger’s voice boomed from within the cell. “No screw that, just get me outta here already. I swear to God this cell gets smaller every time… Wait, did you guys hear that alarm earlier?”

Floyd rolled his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The helicopter ride to Las Vegas was tense to say the least, especially after finding out that Waller gave Samson the authority to lead the mission. In fact, Floyd had to clench his jaw so hard to hold back from snarking that he feared he’d chip a tooth.

The cherry on the top of this so far crumbling, dry and overall disappointing cake of a mission was the older Colonel’s decision to nab the seat next to Floyd, forcing Rick to take the one opposite the hitman instead. Everyone shot a glare at Samson for that, knowing that Rick’s place was beside Floyd, no question about it. Floyd, who was especially pissed at Samson now, internally lamented over the waste of perfectly good hand-holding time.

About half and hour into the journey, Samson cleared his throat, which brought to an end the several conversations going on amongst the squad. “Time to go over the mission parameters,” he announced.

Rick tried not to roll his eyes, while Floyd tried not to punch the man.

Once he felt he had the attention of the squad, Samson continued, “So here’s the situation. The hotel is a hundred floor building with a glass and reinforced steel structure, owned by a rich businessman that Waller believes to be one of the Joker’s aliases. Therefore, it’s likely the place’ll be crawling with security and lackeys loyal to Mr J.” He paused and pulled out his pad to bring up a diagram of the hotel to show to the squad. “The plan is for the majority of the squad to enter through the roof of the building. Flag,” Samson turned his eyes to the Colonel. “You’ll be dropped off separately to join the Black Ops team that’s already on the ground, to create a distraction and divert attention from the incoming squad.”

“Is sending me in alone really the best idea?” Rick huffed.

Floyd swallowed.

“I assure you, Flag,” Samson soothed. “My men are already on the scene and awaiting your arrival. you won’t be alone for long. Besides, I can’t send any squad members with you; that’d be a waste of our resources.”

Rick frowned but nodded, seemingly accepting Samson’s reasoning. Although Floyd noticed the younger Colonel’s shoulders still carried that signature tension, indicating that Rick remained uncomfortable with the idea.

Floyd agreed with him; he certainly didn’t believe that separating Rick from the squad was going to do anyone any good. Surely that Black Ops team could manage a distraction without the Colonel’s help. Floyd watched Rick, and caught the man’s eye as he glanced upwards.

Rick’s mouth ticked upwards into a bitter smile, and Floyd knew they were on the same page.

…

The rest of the flight passed in a similar fashion; tentative conversation encompassed by group contempt towards Samson and the mission in general. In fact, Floyd didn’t know who he was most pissed at by this point: Samson or the Joker, both of whom had played a part in ruining Floyd’s Rick-related plans for that day.

“Better get suited up, squad,” Samson announced as the chopper approached the city.

Floyd opened his mouth to say something, then held back. Samson was not allowed to call them ‘squad’; it was practically sacrilegious.

The squad unbuckled and began to fumble around for their parachutes.

Rick stood up unnecessarily and moved over to where Floyd was struggling with his. The Colonel helped him to slip on the apparatus and fit it properly, ending up with his face a few inches from Floyd’s own. Rick tugged Floyd further into the corner of the chopper, and shot a quick glance over the other man’s shoulder. “This plan,” he started. “Still worries me.”

Floyd nodded, lifting a hand up to grasp Rick’s that was lingering on the front strap of the hitman’s parachute. “Same here; I can’t shake the feeling that Samson’s up to something.”

Rick hummed in agreement, gripping Floyd’s hand in return. “Stay safe out there, alright? We need the squad back together again.” The Colonel stole a look at the remainder of their team. “It’s not the same without her, is it?”

“Nope, it sure isn’t,” Floyd sighed. “We’ll have her back in no time. Don’t do anything stupid, okay? I know what you’re like, you heroic bastard.”

Rick tried to grin, “I’ll try.” It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Everyone, take your positions for the jump,” Samson shouted over the roaring wind, as the doors of the chopper began to open. “Rick, sit down.”

The squad rearranged themselves.

Rick turned his eyes to Floyd, who was staring right back at him. The Colonel pressed a quick kiss to the other’s mouth, and forced himself to pull back after just a few seconds. He kept his eyes closed a little longer, relishing the brush of Floyd’s breath against his face. Then Rick stepped around the hitman and found his seat, buckling back in.

Floyd sighed deeply once Rick had gone, wanting to hold onto him for longer. He got into position and readied himself for the jump, which Floyd hoped would be easier the second time around.

“On three,” Samson ordered once the hatch had opened all the way. “One, two, three.”

Rick watched as his squad leapt off of the chopper and disappeared from sight. His chest was tight. First was Waylon and Chato, with Katana and Digger following close behind. Floyd shot him one final look before throwing himself out into the sky. Samson, however, was the last to make the jump after ensuring that the others had all gone. Rick felt nothing as the older man dropped out of sight.

The door closed up behind them.

Rick let out a breath. He tried to stop his mind from straying onto the safety of his squad, and instead refocused his thoughts onto his own role in the mission.

…

As it turns out, concrete is hard. Floyd bent his knees as he landed, but the force of the drop still shook up his legs, turning them to jelly. He fell over, and not gracefully, at all. “Damn this all to hell,” he said as he threw his parachute away from him.

The rest of the squad had also made the landing. Even Digger.

Floyd slowly rose. The sky was awash with scarlet as the sun dropped down below the horizon, whilst the bright lights of Las Vegas set the tone of what Floyd feared would be a hectic evening. He sighed, wishing he could witness such scenery in other circumstances.

“All made it?” Samson wandered over, having recovered quickly from the jump; lucky him. “Good. We don’t have time to waste.” The Colonel moved off, heading towards a raised area on the roof. “The entrance is this way.”

Floyd rolled his eyes.

Katana strolled up next to him. She sent him a look, raising a hand to touch the hitman briefly on his arm.

Floyd wasn’t sure what she’d meant by that. But he considered it to be friendly exchange.

Samson broke the lock on the door and swung it wide open, waving his hand for the squad to file in. Katana led the way, seemingly fearless.

Floyd wasn’t far behind; he just wanted to find Harley and have this damned mission over and done with. The hitman certainly didn’t think about Rick as they entered enemy territory. And Floyd definitely wasn’t distracted with concern about the other man’s well-being. Of course not. But it would’ve been nice for Samson to at least inform the squad as to whether Rick had landed safely or not.

…

The pilot brought the chopper low enough for Rick to jump out of without a parachute, yet far enough away from the hotel to still be inconspicuous. But that meant the Colonel had to navigate his way through the streets of Las Vegas, back towards the hotel in question. Rick approached the front of the building, weaving through the throng of people heading out to enjoy the Vegas night-life. Good for them; his work day had only just begun.

Eventually, he reached the diner opposite and Rick lingered out of sight, awaiting the signal from the Black Ops team.

He spotted them. A sizeable group of soldiers huddled in the poorly lit alleyway to the right of the hotel. Rick sighed, and made his way through the crowds over to them. The men wore black uniform which covered their skin almost head to toe. It was a darker shade than Rick remembered. He entered the alley. No one moved to greet him, all hanging back. Their faces were all masked, so Rick couldn’t recognise anyone.

“So, what’s the plan?” Rick asked.

A single soldier stepped forward.

Rick eyed him, waiting for his response.

A hand flew out, connecting with his head.

Rick’s world went black. They’d fucking tasered him. Bastards.

…

Rick groaned. The surface underneath him was cold. His head hurt, a lot. In fact it was pulsing with pain in a way that Rick had never experienced before, then again, he’d never been tasered in the head before. Other places, sure; but never the head.

Opening his eyes was a chore. The room wasn’t bright but it wasn’t pitch black either, which meant Rick’s traumatised pupils had to work overtime to adjust to the new stimulus. Slowly, very slowly, the world around him started to come into focus.

Bars. Rick blinked. Those were metal bars.

Rick sat up. The room spun slightly. He was in a cage. Shit. Crawling forwards, Rick soon discovered that he was actually in a cage within a large room, that was lined with many other cages. Fucking shit.

He cautiously reached out a finger to touch the metal bars, not sure what to expect, and partly hoping this would all be a nightmare of some kind. It wasn’t; this was all completely real.

Rick scanned the room with his eyes. Then paused.

Harley Quinn was unconscious in a cage not far from his own. She was here; they’d found her. Or rather, Rick had found her; he couldn’t be sure if he was even in the hotel that Samson had sent the squad into.

Samson. Fuck. This had all been a trap.

A drop of liquid slipped down Rick’s cheek. He wiped it away with a finger. Blood. Great, he thought. He was bleeding. Rick couldn’t remember how that’d happened; that couldn’t be good.

So he’d been captured, and injured. Fantastic.

Rick paused. Did Waller know that this was a set up? Was she in on this? Unlikely; why would she sabotage her own Task Force? But surely Samson couldn’t have fooled her…

“I need to get out of here,” Rick tried to wobble the bars. No luck; they weren’t moving anywhere, especially not in his weakened, post blood-loss state. He leant back against the wall behind him, deciding instead to tear off a strip of fabric from his shirt to stem the bleeding from his head wound.

Rick let out a shaky breath and prayed that the squad would catch on to Samson’s scheme by themselves, having faith in Floyd’s trust issues to achieve that. But then there was surviving whatever Samson had in store for them, and whoever the hell he was working for, because there’s no way it’s the Joker.

The Joker would never lock Harley up in a cage unconscious; that wasn’t his style.

And the Joker wouldn’t have left Rick alive.


	4. Chapter 4

  
They traipsed through corridor upon corridor filled with guest rooms, which was to be expected in a hotel, Floyd supposed. But really, the repetitiveness was fast becoming tiresome. Yet the hitman didn’t let his guard down, not even for a second.

Samson led the group deeper into the building, and eventually down a several flights of stairs. This lower floor was more open than the previous ones, with fewer guest rooms and more larger ones, which Floyd guessed were probably used for conferences or something similar.

Watching Samson ahead of him, Floyd couldn’t help but think about how Rick was faring; it had been a while since they’d been separated now. “Hey Samson,” Floyd said, joining the older colonel at the front of the group.

“This better be about the mission, Lawton.” Samson spared the hitman a glare.

Floyd rolled his eyes, hitching his rifle up a little higher. “Have you heard anything from R-Flag yet? He should’ve landed by now.”

Samson huffed. “Watch your backs as we cross into the next room; there won’t be much cover.” The colonel pushed on.

Floyd clenched his jaw and bit back a four-letter response.

Digger slapped him on the shoulder, shooting the hitman a comforting look. “He’ll be alright, mate,” he said. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Floyd nodded, staying quiet. He was beginning to think Samson had ulterior motives; the man seemed to know the layout of the hotel extremely well. Too well, perhaps. The hitman fell back in the group.

The next room was indeed spacious, larger than any other room they’d come across so far. But still, no hostiles.

Chato slipped up alongside Floyd. “Are you feeling as angsty as I am about this?”

The hitman nodded briefly. His eyes jumped across the squad, noting their shared unease. Floyd dropped a hand onto Chato’s shoulder, leaning down to whisper in the man’s ear, “We need to drop Samson.”

Chato’s head cocked for a moment, then he nodded. “Roger that.”

Floyd pressed on, winding his way back towards the front of the group.

Samson was still in the lead, approaching a dark, metallic door at what seemed to be a dead-end. The colonel stopped a few metres away from it and spun around, signalling to the squad to huddle together. “Behind that door leads is the hotel’s security hub.”

Digger peered around the group to take a look at the obstacle. The door was completely opaque; they either had to trust Samson’s word on this, or not.

“The lock’s electric, so Diablo will have to blow it open,” Samson continued. “Once we’re in, taking out the men inside is priority; it needs to be done before they can send out a distress signal. Understood?” The colonel shifted his gun, eyeing the team. He lingered on Deadshot for a few beats, frowning, before turning to Diablo, “Ready?”

Floyd shot Chato a look.

Chato caught it, then nodded at Samson. “Ready.”

Everyone turned to watch at Chato approached the door, his hands held up in front of him. Samson stepped forwards, his fingers twitching on the trigger of his gun.

Floyd swept his eyes across his squad for the final time. He raised his wrist and fired at Samson’s back.

The Colonel flew across the corridor, colliding with Chato at the door. “What the hell-“

Floyd’s eyebrow’s shot up as Samson struggled to his feet, unaffected.

“I will end you, Deadshot,” Samson growled, hefting his rifle up into place.

Blood poured from the man’s neck. It was suddenly slit open.

Katana was beside him, crimson liquid staining her sword. She kicked the Colonel and he toppled forwards, choking. “He was wearing a bullet-proof vest.”

Red blood splattered across the floor. Samson shuddered one final time before succumbing.

Floyd blinked; he hadn’t even seen her move. “Uh, thanks Katana.”

She smirked, “My pleasure.”

“Am I still opening this door?” Chato cut in.

“Do it,” Floyd said, manoeuvring around Samson’s body. “I don’t see a better plan.”

Everyone hummed in agreement.

“Okay then,” Chato spun around. Floyd felt the heat before he saw the flames grow from Chato’s palms. The pyrokinetic placed his burning palms against the electric lock to burn out the wires. Sparks erupted from he contraption. “Done,” Chato said, and began to heave the door open.

…

A red light began to flash on the wall of the office.

“Sir, they’ve tripped the alarm,” Graves said as she passed her boss the file he’d requested.

“Understood,” Luthor nodded, eyes on his laptop. “They’ve managed to progress quite quickly, haven’t they?”

“I suspect they would’ve been longer without Samson’s assistance,” Graves added. She moved to turn off the alarm. “Now they’ve located the prisoners, what would you have me do?”

“Once they’re all inside that room I want it locked down,” Luthor ordered, his eyes not leaving the screen where the feeds of his security cameras were being streamed to. “No one is to leave. No one. Initiate code 5.”

“Yes sir.”

…

Rick blinked away the darkness. His head was still throbbing mildly as he tried to fight off unconsciousness; he must have passed out, again. Slowly, Rick pushed himself up off the cold floor of his cell.

“Rickie!”

Rick flung his head in the direction of the voice. “What? Harley?” The Colonel blinked rapidly, holding a hand to his head. “I can’t… Are you awake?”

“‘Course I’m awake, silly,” the voice replied. “Otherwise how would I be talking to ya?”

“Right,” Rick huffed. “Of course.”

Harley hummed.

“What exactly happened to you Harley?” Rick asked, shuffling forward towards the bars as his vision cleared up. “The whole squad’s out looking for you, we were really worried.”

“Aw that’s cute,” Harley said. She paused, then sighed, resting her head against the cool bars of her own cell. “Someone came for me in Belle Reve. He looked like my Puddin’, ya know, exaaaactly the same. So I went with him. Except, turns out he wasn’t.”

“So this wasn’t the Joker?”

“Nope,” Harley replied. “The guy could change what he looked like. Do we know anyone who can do that?”

“What?” Rick sat up.

Something exploded outside the door.

Rick scrambled clumsily to his feet, still suffering from the blood-loss and concussion. His eyes locked onto their only escape route. He blinked, trying to maintain his focus.

With a slight screech, the ominous black door began to open outwards.

“Oh, my, god,” Harley joined Rick, making the move to stand, only far more graciously. “This better be the squad.”

Rick held his breath, trying not to get his hopes up.

“Holy shit that’s a lot of cages.” It was Digger.

Rick’s hands flew to his head. “Thank God,” he sighed, flinging himself back from the bars in relief.

“Hey guys, she’s here!” Digger jogged over to where Harley was caged. “How’re you doin’? Y’alright?”

“Peachy,” Harley grinned. “Rick, however, not so good.” She pointed to the cell opposite.

Digger spun around to find Rick, with dried blood plastering his face and neck, kneeling in his cell. “Damn mate, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Already have,” Rick said. “Several times.” He grimaced. “Is the rest of the squad with you?”

Digger smiled warmly. “You bet. We’ll get you guys out in no time, don’t you worry.”

The remaining squad members soon filtered in, and Rick was pretty sure he stopped breathing altogether when his eyes latched onto Floyd.

“Prison-break time,” Floyd sung, beaming his head off.

Harley wolf-whistled.

Rick rolled his eyes.

“You won’t guess who else is here mate,” Digger said as Floyd approached.

Floyd frowned, “Who?”

Digger pointed to Rick’s cell. “Your boyfriend.”

“Holy shit,” Floyd gasped, ignoring Digger’s comment, placing his hands over Rick’s where they were gripping the metal bars. “I knew something was up when we never heard… Fuck, you’re hurt.” Floyd went to reach a hand into the cell.

Rick turned his head away slightly. “It’s not even that bad.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Floyd argued. “We never should’ve trusted Samson, that bastard.”

“Where is he anyway?” Rick peered around Floyd.

“Dead,” Katana said, now standing next to Floyd. She gave Rick a sharp nod.

“Of course.” Rick should have expected that really. “That’s good I suppose.”

“We should hurry; our time is limited,” Katana advised, her eyes darting between the two men. “I think this room was alarmed.”

“Hell,” Rick sighed.

“Right Chato,” Floyd turned. “Time to burn through these bars.”

It took less than a minute to break Harley free. Chato moved towards Rick’s cell and wrapped his palms, already aglow, around the lock. Floyd had yet to let Rick go, which the Colonel was thankful for, fearing he’d otherwise have slipped back onto the floor again by now.

A hissing sound caught Waylon’s attention, who stepped back from the door where he’d been on the look-out for hostiles. “What?” His beady eyes latched onto the ceiling and scanned.

Rick was soon freed, and Floyd’s arms were wrapped around the man immediately to hold him upright. “Thanks, Floyd,” Rick smiled gruffly.

“Seriously, don’t thank me,” Floyd squeezed him tighter. “Everyone, let’s move out.”

Waylon’s eyes narrowed when he found it. The noise was coming from vents, many vents. “Gas,” he gasped.

It was too late. A thick, white gaseous substance was billowing into the room with increasing speed, completely smothering Rick and Floyd who were the closest to the attack. The entire group began to choke.

“Fuck this,” Digger swore as he panted for air.

Floyd tried to keep moving towards the exit but Rick soon slipped out of his grasp. The hitman attempted to bend down and haul Rick back into his arms, but his movement turned sluggish and his muscles painful. Floyd fell to his knees beside Rick. He coughed and spluttered, choking as he tried to continue drawing breath. The hitman had never felt so vulnerable as he did in this moment.

“Hello everyone.”

Floyd looked to the doorway. “Fucking-”

There stood Lex Luthor and Mercy Graves, both in gas masks.

“Welcome, we’ve been expecting you,” Luthor continued. He glanced over his shoulder at the mess the squad had made in the corridor. “I see you discovered Samson’s true loyalties, such a shame; that man was useful to me.”

The gas was beginning to clear.

“Is the Colonel still awake?” Luthor stepped forwards, slipping around the sea of paralysed bodies.

Floyd clenched his jaw as Luthor got uncomfortably close to his boyfriend. Was Rick his boyfriend? They hadn’t really discussed it, but Floyd was pretty sure that was the label they’d use. Right? Unless Rick felt differently…

“Ah yes, he is,” Luthor smiled sleekly. “Just about. I wanted to thank you for the gift, Colonel.” The man pulled back the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the squad’s control panel.

Rick spat at Luthor, who simply laughed and kicked the incapacitated man in the stomach. Floyd lurched forward, and Luthor eyed the hitman curiously as he stepped away, returning to his spot next to Graves

“The gas isn’t deadly, as you’ve probably gathered,” Graves told them. “But it does make you nice and pliant.”

Floyd could feel unconsciousness creeping up on him. Shit. He fell, landing beside Rick on the floor. The Colonel still had his eyes open slightly, thank goodness.

“Well, this was lovely,” Luthor sighed, clapping his hands together. “And don’t you worry Richard, you and I’ll have a little chat later, once everyone’s more comfortable.”

Floyd could hear Rick growl a response into the tiles.

Graves raised a mobile phone to her ear.

With his vision now gone, Floyd reached blindly for Rick’s hand and intertwined their fingers. He slipped away soon after that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood and medical procedures (sort of).

The next time Rick was roused, he’s immediately blinded by the midday sun. “Shit,” he said, scrambling to gain his bearings. He sat up. He was on the roof of the hotel. As he took in his surroundings, Rick noticed he was surrounded by the same guards who had knocked him out to begin with. Their weapons were raised.

The deafening whipping of air alerted Rick to the fact that a chopper was being prepped to take-off.

Where was his squad? Where was Floyd?

Footsteps approached from behind him and Rick swiftly spun around, struggling onto his feet in time to see Lex Luthor step inside the circle of armed guards. “Let him flounder,” he said to the guards, waving at them to lower their guns. “It’s quite pitiful to watch him, isn’t it?”

Rick purposely ignored Luthor’s jab. Once standing he could see the helicopter; his squad were strapped down inside, also surrounded by guards. The colonel glared at Luthor, clenching his jaw; that fucker.

“Ah, you’ve spotted them then,” Luthor sighed, holding his hands out. “I’m having them shipped off to a holding facility, you see. I’d say they’ll be safe there but…”

Rick launched himself at the businessman, only to receive a brutal kick to the ribs. The colonel slammed into the ground. Luthor straightened his suit jacket. Rick let out a deep cough which stripped his throat raw. His side screamed with pain. Rick panted.

The cough caught Floyd’s attention from the chopper. The hitman tried to see past the guards, trying to catch a glimpse of the movement on the roof. Was it Rick? Did he get free? But Floyd could see nothing through the circle of guards, and Luthor himself, who were blocking the action from his eyes.

Luthor crouched down next to where Rick was sprawled against the concrete. He tapped the control panel on his forearm idly. “Do you know what I want, Richard?”

Rick spat blood in his face.

A dark laugh ripped from Luthor’s mouth. He wiped the blood away with a handkerchief. “I want to be the leader in this fledgling market for meta-humans, and I will not allow Amanda Waller, or you, to take this from me. So, I’m offering you a chance to save your precious ‘squad’, since I know you care so much for them.”

Rick narrowed his eyes.

“Kill Waller, Richard, and I won’t murder your ‘squad’,” Luthor said, dragging a finger across the control panel. “You have 72 hours.” He chucked a flip phone at the Colonel. “Contact me when you’ve fulfilled my request, and your ‘squad’ will continue to live out their miserable existences.”

Rick didn’t reply, clasping the phone in his hands. He knew he couldn’t refuse. He tried to catch another glimpse of his friends.

“Knock him out,” Luthor ordered, stepping back.

A rifle butt collided with Rick’s face.

…

Ah, concrete again, Rick thought as he came to. He was still on the roof, great. Carefully, the Colonel pushed himself up into a sitting position, all too aware of his very bruised ribs. “Fuck,” he groaned as he finally managed to get onto his knees.

A ticking sound. What was that?

Rick reached out to pick up the device laid out next to him. A box with a timer; ten minutes and counting. A bomb? Rick swore. Luthor had left him with a bomb, what the hell? The Colonel quickly calculated his chances of escape if he stayed to disable the bomb, then decided it was best to run. He dragged himself onto his feet, the phone Luthor left him gripped his his hand. Rick ran for the entrance to the hotel; his only escape was the ground floor.

As he wound his way through the innards of the fake hotel, Rick called Waller. “I need immediate evacuation from the hotel site,” he said.

“Have you located the Joker?” Waller asked.

“No Joker,” Rick panted, descending the stairs as quickly as humanly possible. “It was Luthor the whole time. He has the squad. The hotel’s about to explode; I need out of here A.S.A.P.”

There was a pause.

“Okay. A chopper’s on it’s way,” Waller replied. “Hang in there Flag.”

Rick hung up and continued sprinting for his life. God, he hated stairs.

…

Graves glanced at Luthor from the pilot’s seat. “Do you think Flag will complete the task?”

Luthor looked up from his phone. “Mr Flag will do anything for this particular group of criminals; murdering his boss in cold blood should not be a problem for him.”

Graves nodded, and increased their altitude.

…

Rick burst through the entrance of the ‘hotel’ and into the bustling streets of Las Vegas. There were so many people, and a building was about to blow. Shit. Rick glanced at the gun he’d picked up during his trip down. The Colonel ran into the middle of the road and raised the gun to the sky, firing a couple of shots. He shouted at the civilians, telling them that the hotel was about to explode. As one would expect, chaos ensued. People began to scream and retreat from the scene as quickly as they could. Good, Rick thought; at least they’ll be safe now.

Rick heard sirens approaching which was his cue to flee. He darted down the street and away from the city centre. Before long, Rick spotted a helicopter in the sky ahead of him. Finally he can get out of here. He picked up the pace, heading for their designated pick-up point.

The roof of the hotel exploded, sending debris flying. Flames grazed the skyline.

Rick was not close enough to feel for force of the blast, but the heat of it still prickled his back as he continued his escape. He prayed the emergency services reached the scene quickly enough.

The hotel soon caved in on itself.

…

The squad all felt when the helicopter landed.

Floyd craned his neck to catch a glimpse of their destination; mountains surrounded them.

The door of the chopper lowered slowly, letting in a gust of chilly wind. Then the guards unbuckled the squad and escorted them out onto the helipad, lining them up orderly.

Floyd’s eyes strayed to the snow-tipped mountains. They were definitely a long way from Las Vegas, from Rick. He willed himself to stay calm.

Luthor stepped out from the cockpit accompanied by Graves, and led the way towards an enormous man-made hanger in the side of a mountain. Once inside the hanger, Luthor turned towards the guard closest to him. “Take Task Force X to their assigned cells,” he ordered.

The guard nodded. “Yes sir.” He raised a hand, waving at his fellow guards to follow. He marched off.

Each squad member was pushed forwards to follow in turn.

Harley tried to elbow off her guard’s particularly inappropriate grasp. Katana kicked at his ankles from behind them. “Don’t make me cut your hands off,” she barked, before her own guard gave her another harsh shove.

Floyd begrudgingly allowed his guard to manoeuvre him. But he purposely slowed as he walked past Luthor. “What did you do with Rick, you bastard?”

Luthor nearly rolled his eyes. “Mr Flag is fine. Although, if you all want to live, you better hope that your friend can kill Waller before she kills him.”

“What-?” Floyd was tugged away. “Fuck.” Damn it, Rick better be okay.

…

On the ride back to Gotham City, Rick contemplates his options. He could kill Waller, but that would bring a lot of risks; without her there’s no Task Force X, what would happen to the squad then? Probably nothing worse than what was already happening to them right now. Rick cradled his head in his hands.

Was he too young to just retire?

Concentrate, Rick told himself. If he doesn’t send Luthor confirmation of Waller’s death, he’ll kill his squad; he’ll kill Floyd.

Could he tell Waller about his ultimatum? Rick shook his head; there was the chance that Waller would kill Rick herself in self-defence and simply re-create the squad from scratch, she’s shown how little she cares for her ‘assets’.

That’s what you get for working for a sociopath. Rick ran a hand through his hair, clenching his jaw. He was tempted to just cry. No, he had to focus; he needed a plan.

…

Rick walked into Waller’s office with more confidence than he actually had.

“So, Flag,” Waller gestured for him to take a seat. Rick did. “What exactly is going on here?”

Rick explained everything, including the ultimatum. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted of his chest when he finished.

Waller stayed silent for a while, and Rick could almost see the equations behind her eyes. She stood up suddenly, causing Rick to flinch. “I’m not going to shoot you Flag,” Waller smirked.

Rick relaxed slightly, still unsure of what was happening.

“But It seems as though you’re going to have to shoot me,” Waller said, brushing down her trousers.

Rick gaped.

…

“We have five new buyers that need to be assessed,” Graves told him, scanning through emails on her laptop. “They’ve registered their interest in our latest merchandise.”

Luthor raised an eyebrow. “Not Task force X?”

Graves shook her head. “No, that information is still confidential. They’re interested in buying the Platinum level meta-humans.”

“Very well,” Luthor nodded. “Get the paperwork done.”

“Of course, sir.”

Luthor’s phone bleeped from it’s place on the desk. The man picked it up.

“Is it Flag?” Graves asked, eyeing him over her laptop screen.

“Yes.” Luthor opened the message Flag had sent him; it contained a video. He watched it eagerly. “Flag shot Waller,” Luthor smiled, turning the phone towards Graves to show her the final image of Waller bleeding out on the floor of her office.

Graves smirked. “Shall I prepare Task Force X for the cleansing process?”

Luthor nodded. “We’ll have them ready for the market in no time.”

…

Rick fell to his knees by Waller’s side immediately pressing his hands against the pulsing wound in her chest.

“If this fails, Flag, you’re fired,” Waller panted.

Rick blinked at her. “I think that’s fair, ma’am.” He increased the pressure.

“I need you to hold her still,” the military doctor ordered Rick. “If I don’t puncture her lungs in exactly the right place, she’ll drown in her own blood.”

“Yes ma’am,” Rick nodded rapidly, using one hand to hold Waller down while the other stayed on the wound.

“Right,” the doctor sighed readying herself. “Here we go.”

Waller began to choke.

“Just hold on Amanda,” the doctor soothed. She found the spot between the correct ribs, then punctured.

Waller heaved a ragged breath.

“Thank God,” Rick gasped. “Thank you, doctor.” He sent the lady a relieved smile.

“The paramedics should be here soon,” the doctor replied. “She should make it. This was bloody risky though, I hope it was worth it.”

Rick nodded, frowning. “So do I.”

Waller grabbed the Colonel’s hand. “Use the trackers in their explosive devices to find them,” she croaked. “Samson didn’t know. I won’t let Luthor win this round, Rick.”

Rick covered her hand with his own and squeezed. “I’ll bring them back; you just stay alive.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for medical procedures.

The mission preparation room was a mess. Rick’s team was everywhere, bustling about in search of gear for the very last-minute mission they’d just been called onto. Twenty black ops agents had been scrounged up in total. Rick and his lieutenant were gathered around the control panel in the centre of the room, which was connected to the massive monitor on the wall in front of them. The pair were trying to activate Task Force X’s tracking devices, but it was taking longer than Rick had hoped.

“Tell me the code again, sir,” his lieutenant asked for the fifth time. “I think I’ve finally got it.”

Rick sighed and reiterated the activation code.

The lieutenant typed rapidly then waited as the system processed the input. Her fingers danced against the side of the panel. A green light flashed. “It’s done; they’re activated,” she smiled.

“Thank God,” Rick ran a hand through his hair. “What’s their location, Cooper?”

Cooper nodded. “On it, sir. This’ll take a second.”

Rick couldn’t help a small smile from leaking onto his face. They were nearly there; they were a step closer to saving his squad. It was a brilliant feeling, a powerful feeling, one that Rick had been missing since the start of this goddamn mission.

“Got it,” Cooper slammed her hands down on the surface. “They’re in the Canadian Rockies, sir.”

“What?” Rick leant down to peer over her shoulder at the coordinates, then looked at the monitor ahead. The Colonel held the bridge of his nose; why there of all places? “Okay, great,” he sighed. “Thank you Cooper. Now, will input the coordinates into the chopper? I want it prepped to leave in ten minutes.”

“Yes sir.” Cooper saluted, then left with haste.

Rick took a moment to look around. He was about to go to hell with these soldiers. The Colonel let his eyes flutter shut for a second, just to pray that things didn’t end up like they did on Rikers Island. However he didn’t stand still for long, Rick soon joined his team to start gathering his gear. “Listen up everyone, we’re heading to the Rockies; that means cold weather and rough terrain. I don’t want to lose anyone to Mother Nature, understand? Make sure you’ve got the right gear.”

There was chorus of ‘yes sirs’.

Rick said another silent prayer, this time for his squad, hoping they could hold out until their rescue.

…

That strand of thought was revisited once the black ops team was packed into the helicopter. It felt strange for Rick to be heading out on a mission without Floyd and the rest of the squad. The Colonel scanned his new team. It was a damn shame that he hadn’t got to know this lot as well as the previous yet, but rapport like that took time. Rick would get to know these guys eventually.

Before long the image of Floyd appeared behind his eyes, of the man’s beautiful, cheesy smile. Rick let out a deep breath; this was going to be an incredibly and painfully long journey if he was just going to stew in his fears for his squad. God knows what Luthor was doing to his new meta-human captives by now. The only consolation Rick had was knowing that Luthor wanted his squad alive for his ‘market’ or whatever.

Either way, Rick just wished he had Floyd by his side. The more this mission dragged out, the more Rick realised how their relationship was hanging in the balance; what exactly was their relationship again? They’d definitely moved on from being just friends, but were they boyfriends or was it less than that? Shit, Rick thought, dropping his head into his hands. This was the last thing he needed to be worrying about right now.

…

  
“I really hate cells, have I mentioned that?” Harley said, pushing up into a crab position.

“I think you have, actually,” Chato muttered from the adjacent cell.

“Especially ones this small,” Harley continued. “There’s just not enough room for gymnastics. At least at Belle Reve they take that into consideration.” She brought herself into a handstand, only managing not to hit the ceiling because of her comparative shortness.

“There’s hardly enough room for me in here, let alone gymnastics,” Waylon added from his cage at the end.

Floyd was sat with his back against one of the walls, close enough to the bars to be able to gaze out at his fellow squad members, and keep his eye on the door. He listened idly to the conversation but didn’t actively join in, which was unusual for him. He just couldn’t bring himself to contribute while he had so much shit weighing on his mind.

“So what’cha think Luthor wants us here for?” Digger finally asked the question everyone else had been thinking. “Who bets he’s going to kill us? I think that’s a pretty solid option.”

Katana huffed. “We would already be dead by now if that was the case. He’s not killing us.”

Digger crossed his arms. “Fine. Anyone else got any ideas?”

“Experimentation?” Harley offered, now back on the ground and switching between different yoga positions. “We are meta-humans after all.”

Chato nodded. “Yeah, Luthor does have a creepy meta-human fetish.”

“Food,” Waylon moaned, slamming his fist against the floor repeatedly.

Floyd rolled his eyes.

Chato glanced over to his scaly friend. “Was that an option or are you just hungry?”

Waylon shrugged. “I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since…forever.”

The mention of food made Floyd realise just how empty his stomach was; Waylon had a point, it had been too long since any of them had eaten. The hitman looped his arms around his bent knees and knitted his fingers together.

Thoughts of food led to thoughts about rescue, then Rick inevitably popped into Floyd’s mind.   
He let his head tip back against the wall. Floyd hoped will everything he had that Rick was alright. He wasn’t entirely sure what the Colonel meant to him, but he knew that Rick was special to him in a way that no one else was; and that was scary as hell. But also, knowing Rick was alive would lay to rest Floyd’s worries about Zoë; if he died here, Floyd trusted that Rick would take care of his daughter in his place. And that was also terrifying. Floyd had never felt comfortable placing that much trust in a person before, not even his ex-wife.

The hitman closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. Go to your happy place Floyd. Except his happy place was more of a happy person, and that person was Rick. Fuck.

Clicking alerted the squad to the entrance of Mercy Graves, who strutted down the aisled between the cells in her black leather boots. Any previous conversation between the team quietened down immediately. “Why, don’t stop on my account,” she greeted, a sharp smile pinned on her face.

Waylon snorted at her as she passed by.

Graves came to a stop outside Floyd’s cell. The hitman glared up at her from his spot on the floor, not feeling the need to stand in her presence.

“Fuck off,” Floyd said.

Graves smirked. “That’s cute.” She pulled a gun from her holster and fired.

Floyd shot to his feet. “What the-” A dart jutted out of his chest, taunting him. “You fucking tranquillised me.” The hitman ripped the dart away. “You can’t just- I’ll kill- Shit.” Floyd felt the effects of the drug hit his system. He slumped to the floor. Then he was out.

…

It was the stench of sterility that first hit Floyd. Then it was the bright light hitting his vulnerable pupils. “What-” He tried to raise his hands to shield his eyes, only to find they wouldn’t budge. Neither would his feet. “No, damn it.”

Surgeons in blue scrubs appeared out of nowhere, their faces covered with ominous white masks. There were so many of them; why were there so many of them?

Out of the corner of his eye, Floyd caught sight of a surgeon tapping a syringe filled with a clear liquid. The man then moved to push said liquid into what Floyd quickly realised was an IV bag. Shit. Shit. That was connected to his arm, the hitman could feel the pinch of the needle in his flesh.

Breathing suddenly became difficult; pressure tightened his chest. Don’t panic, don’t panic, Floyd screamed at himself. Don’t. Panic.

Too late.

What were these people planning to do to him?

Another surgeon raised a scalpel, handling it carefully in their gloved hands. “This will all be over soon, Mr Lawton. Then you’ll be at peace.”

Floyd blinked. His eyes felt heavy. “No, stop,” he slurred, struggling again against his restraints. His vision swam, then fell away. Floyd welcomed the darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Rick double checked the coordinates on his hand-held device. “We’re here,” he shouted. The Colonel took another look out of the window beside him. “There’s a helipad down below, so aim to land there. Okay, everyone move out; I’ll see you on the ground.”

The black ops team saluted, then gathered at the door of the helicopter. Rick gave them one last once-over before he heaved the door wide open, letting the freezing air flood the compartment. The Colonel wasted no time after that, jumping immediately into the sky to fall at high speeds towards the mountain range below.

Rick landed well and was quick to slam the button that re-compacted his parachute. His eyes scanned the helipad; his team had almost all landed. Rick made his way over to the nearest clump of soldiers. “I want those bombs set up immediately,” he ordered.

“Yes sir,” came the reply, hard to hear against the howling wind.

Four soldiers ran towards the large concrete door built into the side of the mountain.

“Everyone take cover and wait for my command,” Rick told the rest of his team through his walkie-talkie, then he moved to duck down over the side of the helipad.

Soon enough the final four soldiers at the door took cover.

The concrete entrance exploded into pieces, sending fiery chunks flying across the helipad, some of which even rolled down the side of the mountain.

Rick watched and waited until the coast seemed clear. He raised his walkie-talkie. “Right, that’s it. All soldiers move to the entrance with your weapons out.” The Colonel scrambled back up and onto the helipad. He released one pistol from its holster and knocked the safety off.

The soldiers lingered at the new gaping hole in the mountain, awaiting their orders. Each had their weapon at the ready.

“Our mission is to rescue Task Force X and bring them back to Belle Reve, nothing more,” Rick reiterated. “Remember that speed will be crucial since we can no longer vouch for the stability of the geology after that explosion. Is that clear?”

His team nodded.

“Good. Let’s move out,” Rick led the group as they breached the entrance to the mountain.

…

The bars on the cells rattled as the whole room shook for a second or two.

“What the hell was that?” Digger rose to his feet.

“Rescue team!” Harley shrieked, a grin splitting her face.

Chato glanced at the roof uneasily. “Doubt it.”

“Was that an earthquake or an explosion?” Digger asked.

“Explosion,” Katana replied. “Earthquakes last longer; more seismic waves.”

“Right,” Digger nodded. “Is that better then?”

Katana just huffed.

“I reckon Rick’s here to save the day,” Harley announced, bouncing on her toes.

Waylon also moved to stand. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up; even if it is a rescue, what’s the likelihood that Rick’s with them?”

“Yeah, Floyd said that Rick had to kill Waller,” Chato added. “D’you really think he could take her down?”

Digger sighed. “No offence, but Rick doesn’t seem like he’d have the guts.”

Katana hummed in agreement.

“I think you’re wrong,” Harley pouted. “Rick would do nearly anything for us.”

Digger raised an eyebrow at her.

“Well, mostly for Floyd,” Harley corrected. “But us too. I’m serious.”

Digger rolled his eyes and huffed. “Okay, point taken.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Waylon crossed his arms, letting out a resigned growl.

A few beats of silence passed.

“What if Rick comes for us and Floyd still isn’t back?” Harley gasped, hands over her mouth and eyes wide.

Chato sparked a fire in his hand. “Floyd’s been gone too long.”

“What are you saying?” Harley pressed.

“You know exactly what I’m saying,” Chato sighed. He coaxed the flames into a sphere. “I doubt there’ll be much for Rick to save.”

“Dude,” Digger cringed. “Pessimistic much?”

“No, realistic,” Chato said.

Harley slammed her head against the wall.

…

Luthor gazed down at his prize. Lawton remained unconscious as he laid strapped to the gurney. He was yet to be moved from the operating room, although the remnants of the surgery had long been cleared away.

The room’s sterile stench had not wavered since Luthor had last visited.

“The operation was a success, sir,” the surgeon told him, indicating to the bandage at Lawton’s temple.

“Good,” Luthor nodded. “How long until he wakes up?”

A tremor rattled the room; dust fell from the ceiling and surgical equipment jumped to the floor with the force of it.

Luthor frowned. “Can you wake him up unnaturally?”

The surgeon paused.

“Can you?”

“Yes, sir,” the surgeon replied. “But he will not have completely healed, and his stability cannot be guaranteed.”

“The implant tested well the previous time, did it not?” Luthor asked.

“Perfectly, sir.”

Luthor nodded. “Then wake him; if this is a rescue mission, we’ll need all the fire power we’ve got.” The businessman pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and dialled Graves’ number. He sent the surgeon a final, ominous stare before stalking out of the room.

…

The first round of guards, which had flooded to the entrance not long after the explosion had sounded, were easy enough for Rick’s team to incapacitate; they’d brought some gas of their this time. Once all the hostiles had dropped to the floor, Rick gave the signal for the team to move further into the building.

They turned a corner to find a single person blocking their path.

“Everyone halt,” Rick ordered. “Lower your guns.”

The soldiers glanced at each other, but did so.

Rick couldn’t take his eyes of Floyd, who stood before them in his full Deadshot get-up. Before he could register what was happening, the Colonel was jogging over to pull his friend, boyfriend?, into an embrace. A smile broke out onto his face.

Floyd was wearing his white face mask, so his expression remained hidden. But Rick expected the man to remove it on his approach. He didn’t. Floyd stayed silent and didn’t move to greet Rick.

However, that didn’t sway Rick from opening his arms out to hug the hitman.

He was thrown back.

Rick landed heavily on the floor. “Jesus,” he grunted. “What the hell, Floyd!” The Colonel heard the tell-tale clicking of guns raising. “Stand-down,” he ordered his team quickly, not wanting to lose sight of Floyd. Rick pushed himself off of the floor.

Floyd was unmoved.

Brushing himself down, Rick decided to close in on his friend, boyfriend?, again. Only this time, far more cautiously. As he did so Rick slowly raised a hand, planning to peel that mask away to reveal that beautiful face, like maybe that would snap the hitman out of it. What had Luthor done to him?

Floyd grabbed Rick’s wrist.

Rick’s eyes flew to where their bodies met, then back to those chocolate eyes.

Floyd slammed the Colonel harshly against the wall of the corridor, his hand slipping down to press on Rick’s forearm, while the other pinned Rick’s opposite shoulder. Under non-threatening circumstances Rick would’ve been turned on by this. Not this time; this was not the Floyd he knew and…liked.

The black ops agents shuffled forwards, trigger-ready. They awaited the Colonel’s orders. But their frowns and uneasy composures told Rick that they were waiting on him very unhappily.

Rick drunk in Floyd’s blank and unfeeling features, which was so easy to do from this close, and could tell that something was wrong. Something had changed in Floyd. Rick noticed some bandage sticking out from underneath Floyd’s mask; had he been injured? Or worse, attacked? The Colonel instinctively moved to touch it but found himself restrained even further by Floyd.

With the silence that had engulfed the corridor, it was not hard to hear the footsteps of Luthor as he approached in a bullet-proof suit.

The man shot Rick his usual contemptuous smile. “He’s well-trained, isn’t he?”

Rick growled. “What the hell have you done to him you bastard?” He didn’t struggle; he knew it’d be pointless.

Luthor sighed. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you; you can’t change it now.” He paused to take in the Colonel’s obvious distress. “I took the liberty to implant a device that controls and adapts electrical impulses in the brain, allowing the dictation of Mr Lawton’s actions via voice control.” Luthor waved a small device in his hand.

Rick felt sick. Floyd was being controlled. Was his friend, boyfriend?, even conscious of this? He stared into Floyd’s vacant eyes.

“Choke him, Lawton,” Luthor ordered into the device.

The hitman does.

The soldiers level their weapons at Luthor.

“Sir, should we fire?” It was Cooper, Rick registered vaguely.

“If your soldiers shoot at me, Richard,” Luthor raised an eyebrow. “I will kill Lawton.”

Rick wanted to tell them no, don’t shoot, but it was hard to when the life was being choked out of him. Floyd’s hands were so tight around his throat that the Colonel could feel deep bruises forming on his skin. The hitman was lifting him off of his feet with seemingly little effort. Rick’s vision began to blur around the edges, with black dots piercing through.

Floyd winked at him, and the grip around Rick’s neck instantly loosens slightly to allow air into his lungs.

Suddenly Rick remembers that they’d disabled the bombs in his squad’s necks back in Gotham; Luthor couldn’t simply kill Floyd after all. “Fire,” he croaked to his team.

Bullets flew towards the businessman.

Luthor barely had time to hide his surprise at Flag’s change of tactics, before he took cover behind the pair, who remained unmoved in their positions against the wall.

The firing instantly stopped. Cooper signalled for them to approach the trio slowly, aiming to find a gap though which to shoot Luthor.

Floyd’s hands still gripped Rick’s neck.

“Hurry up and kill him, Lawton,” Luthor bit out. “Then take out the rest of them.”

Rick watched Floyd eagerly, praying his oxygen-deprived brain hadn’t hallucinated that wink.

Floyd released Rick, allowing the man to drop unceremoniously to the floor. He whipped out his pistol and shot Luthor straight through the skull. Luthor had no time to react. He fell, smacking his head against the floor which was soon drenched in sticky blood.

Rick coughed painfully; his throat stung. The Colonel heaved air into his lungs like he hadn’t breathed in days, and it felt that way. He vaguely saw Floyd drop to his knees before him.

Before Rick could say word, Floyd’s arms were around him. Rick let out a deep breath and gripped Floyd back with all his remaining strength. “How did you break Luthor’s control?” Rick asked between breaths, his voice hoarse. “The implant-”

“The implant never worked,” Floyd admitted. “I’d been pretending from the start, thinking it’d give me an advantage when rescue came.”

“You fucking dick, I thought-” Rick pulled back from the hug to much Floyd in the arm. Then he tugged the stupid white mask off of his friend’s, boyfriend’s?, face.

Floyd was smiling, almost shyly.

Rick pulled him into a bruising kiss.

With their lips locked, Floyd raised a finger to stroke the damaged skin on Rick’s neck. “I’m so sorry,” the hitman whispered against his friend’s, boyfriend’s?, mouth.

Rick batted the other’s hand away, then moved to stand. Floyd was up first, so offered his hand, which Rick accepted. “Do you know-?” Rick asked.

“Yes, I do” Floyd smiled. “Follow me. They’re not far.”

“We have to hurry,” Rick said. “We’ve wasted too much time already, and Graves’ will figure out what’s happened soon enough.”

Floyd glanced at the soldiers, sending them an awkward smile and a thumbs-up. “Good job guys.”

Shit, Rick thought, having completely forgotten about the twenty other human beings in the corridor with them. He should’ve considered that before inappropriately making-out in front of them. “Uh,” Rick turned to face his team. “Sorry about that all that. Um, let’s just, get this over with.”

Floyd led the way, with Rick by his side.

Cooper soon caught up.

“Thanks for not shooting him, Cooper,” Rick said as he caught sight of her, his eyes sliding briefly in Floyd’s direction.

“I trusted your judgement, sir,” she smiled. “We all did. Although, it was tough to watch.”

Rick grimaced.

Floyd wrapped an arm around Rick’s shoulder. “Seriously though,” he turned to Cooper. “Thanks for not pumping me full of lead. It’s greatly appreciated.”

Rick rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help from feeling on top of the world.


	8. Chapter 8

  
Harley squealed when she saw them. “I told you guys,” she gripped the bars of her cell. “I told you it was a rescue.”

Mumbling filled the air; the squad was clearly guilty about their lack of faith.

Floyd pointed his pistol at a panel on the nearby wall and fired, disabling the electric controls for the cell doors, which immediately swung open. “Who wants to get outta here?”

The squad whooped.

Waylon scooped Chato into a brief hug as soon as he was free. Harley attacks Katana in a similar way, throwing the other lady off balance with her excitement. Rick, about to send Floyd a look, gets a shock as Digger launches himself at the Colonel, embracing him tightly. His eyes widened comically but eventually Rick pats the man on the back in return.

“Glad you’re alright Ricky,” Digger grunted as he pulled away. He slapped Floyd on the shoulder. “You too man.”

“Thanks,” Floyd raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Rick who was still struggling to comprehend what had just happened. The hitman barked out a laugh but sobered when his friend, boyfriend?, swatted the back of his head. “Come on guys, y’all can finish this reunion later.”

Harley slipped up beside Floyd, eyeing the bandage around the man’s head. “Don’t think you’re getting out of explaining that, Floyd,” she said pointedly.

Floyd gave her a nod, knowing he owed these guys that much.

“Good. Now what about the other meta-humans?” She crossed her arms. “Are we saving them too?”

“Uh,” Floyd turned to Rick. “I’d forgotten about them.”

Rick thought for a moment; Waller wouldn’t want any meta-humans to be left in the hands of the enemy. “We’ll save them, or free them at least.”

Floyd nodded. “Okay, let’s get going then.”

“I want you and the squad to head back to the helipad,” Rick ordered. “I’ll make sure a chopper’s ready for your arrival.”

Floyd narrowed his eyes.

“My team and I’ll fetch the rest of the meta-humans,” Rick finished, not wavering at the appearance of Floyd’s stubborn glare. “Don’t fight me on this, Floyd.”

The hitman felt Harley grip the crook of his arm and tug lightly. He let it go. “Fine,” Floyd sighed.

A small smile crept onto Rick’s features. “Good.”

Floyd began to make his way to the door but paused halfway. He turned back to face Rick, whose eyes were still glued to the hitman. “Graves is still alive.”

Cooper stepped forward. “If she gets away, Graves will takeover Luthor’s trafficking network.”

A beat of silence passed. All eyes turned to Rick.

The Colonel sighed and ruffled his hair. “Then we’ll eliminate her too.”

“So you’ve taken out Luthor then?” Digger asked.

“Yeah, he’s dead,” Rick nodded. “We’ll explain later, okay?”

Digger shrugged. “Sure.”

Rick dropped a hand onto Cooper’s shoulder. “Lieutenant, you’re to escort Task Force X out of the building and make the call for their immediate evacuation.”

“Yes sir,” Cooper saluted.

“The rest of you, you’re with me,” Rick added.

“Remember the time limit, sir,” Cooper said, with a significant look.

Rick’s lips twitched into a grim smile. “‘Course. Alright everyone, let’s move out.”

The group entered the expanse of the corridor and began to split up into their two parties.

Floyd caught Rick’s arm as he went to lead his team further into the mountain. Rick sent him a questioning look. “Let me join the search party,” Floyd said.

Rick paused. “You said you’d go with the squad.”

The hitman huffed. “I just got you back.” Floyd hoped that didn’t sound as petulant as it did in his head. He cringed. “Um-”

“Fine, okay,” Rick said, cutting the other off. “But don’t let your ass get captured again or I swear to God-” Rick didn’t know what he’d do if that happened, and he didn’t want to think about it.

Floyd smiled and squeezed the Colonel’s hand. “Thanks.”

Rick tried not to blush as he turned to address the whole group, who were pretending they hadn’t just been watching that interaction. “Time to go everyone. Cooper, Floyd’s coming with us.”

The Lieutenant nodded, not surprised at all. “See you soon, sir. Good luck.”

“And you,” Rick replied.

…

The complex wasn’t all that large; it didn’t take the team long to find where Luthor had the remaining meta-humans caged up.

Rick peered through the small window in the door. “They’re in here.” He looked to Floyd.

The hitman shot through the electric lock then proceeded to kick the door down.

Rick rolled his eyes. Show-off. Then blushed when Floyd winked at him.

The group entered.

A soldier knelt beside the first captive. He tentatively reached through the bars to feel for their pulse. The meta-human was just lying on the floor, not having registered their entrance at all. “Their dead.”

“Sir, all the meta-human’s are dead,” another soldier called out from the end of the row of cages.

Rick frowned.

“The last few had darts in them,” the soldier explained, jogging back over to the group. “I think they were drugged.”

“Tranquilliser gun,” Floyd gasped. “Graves used one on me. She obviously upped the dosage for these guys.”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this all of them, or will there be more?”

Floyd thought for a moment. “Probably more.”

“Then we better hurry,” Rick sighed, moving to leave. “Graves clearly didn’t want anyone getting their hands on the merchandise.”

…

“Shit,” Cooper swore as they reached the helipad.

“What?” Harley asked. Then she saw.

They all saw.

“You didn’t think you’d leave here alive, did you?”

Cooper raised her gun. “Graves, I have the authority to kill you; don’t think I won’t do it.”

Graves laughed. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” She revealed the hand hidden behind her back; it held a hand-grenade. “Because if I go down, you all go up in smoke.”

“Fuck,” Harley said.

Chato pushed his way to the front of the squad, a few metres onto the helipad. He threw his palms up, sending Graves and the guards surrounding her up in flames. By the time the fire shrank back into him, all that was left on the helipad was their charred remains.

Digger let out a long breath.

Cooper pulled out her walkie-talkie. “Lieutenant Cooper here, Task Force X needs evacuation-”

An explosion sent the squad flying. The helipad tore in half, falling away into the valley below.

…

All the other meta-humans were dead; not a single one was left alive. Rick wiped the back of his hand across his forehead; he was so done with this day. The ground trembled beneath his feet, enough to knock him off his feet. “What now?” Rick grunted.

“Pretty sure that was an explosion, sir,” a soldier called out.

The ceiling began to cave in. First dust, then chucks of concrete fell down around them.

Floyd helped Rick to his feet. “We have to go, now,” the hitman said.

Rick simply nodded, visibly shaken.

“Everyone, run,” Floyd shouted over the ominous sound of tumbling rock.

And run they did.

The building tried its hardest to trap them, sending slabs crashing down in front of them, then clouding them with dust. Just when the group thought they’d made it through, another sickening tremble would wrack the ground, slamming them into the walls of the corridor.

At some point Floyd had grabbed Rick’s hand.

He tugged the Colonel into his side, out of the way of a pipe swinging down though the ceiling. The hitman was not going to lose Rick to a goddamn building.


	9. Chapter 9

Digger felt faint when he caught sight of the chopper closing in; they might make it out of here after all. He stole another glance down at the helipad that continued to fall to pieces before their eyes. Digger paused to let his eyes follow one particular slab of concrete disappear out of sight. God these mountains were tall.

“We’re going to have to jump,” Cooper shouted.

The helicopter approached, swinging down so that it was level with where the squad were stranded at the edge of the now non-existent helipad. When it was in place, Cooper signalled for the others to leap towards the open door of the chopper’s main compartment.

Waylon grabbed Harley and Chato by the arm and leapt. The trio crash onto the floor of the chopper. “Fuck,” Harley said, moving to take a seat. “Come on Katana, jump!”

Katana rolled her eyes but did so, landing gracefully.

The ground beneath the Lieutenant began to crack and drop down. Digger flung a hand out to stop her from falling. Cooper stepped off the compromised area, then joined Digger in launching herself into the helicopter.

They managed so in the nick of time. As soon as they were all safely on the chopper, the remainder of the helipad collapsed into a cloud of dust; it was going to be harder for Rick and the others to jump to safety now that the gap had widened considerably.

…

Floyd and Rick were sprinting. Their escape was beginning to feel like eternity. The Colonel threw a quick look over his shoulder to check on his team; most of them appeared to still be there, thank goodness. They skidded to a stop at the entrance.

“Where’s the helipad?” Rick asked, staring down at the gaping hole where their escape route used to be.

“Shit,” Floyd swore.

Soldiers gathered behind them. “I guess that tells us where the explosion came from,” one of them muttered.

Floyd pulled Rick out of the way of another falling rock.

The Colonel squeezed his hand in thanks then pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Cooper?” He waited a beat. “Lieutenant Cooper do you copy? Did you make it onto the chopper?”

“Dear God don’t say they’re down there,” Floyd said, eyeing the drop into the deep valley below.

Rick shot the hitman a weak glare. “Not helping, Floyd.”

The other shrugged.

“Colonel?” The walkie-talkie crackled into life. “Colonel Flag this is Cooper; we’re all aboard the helicopter sir.”

Rick let out a breath. “Thank God.” He shared a look with Floyd, who nodded. “Cooper, we’re at the entrance to the base, can you tell the pilot to bring the chopper round?”

“Yes sir,” Cooper replied. “Roger that.”

Rick faced the group; a bunch of sweaty and dust-covered faces. “Looks like we’re getting out of here after all.”

Floyd placed his hand on Rick’s shoulder reassuringly.

“The chopper’s coming in,” a soldier announced, peering out at the sky.

“Colonel,” the walkie-talkie sounded; it was the pilot. “Prepare to jump a metre or so; I can’t bring her in any closer than that.”

“Roger that,” Rick answered. “Y’all hear that,” he addressed the team. “We’re gonna have to jump onto the chopper.”

“Yes sir,” they barked.

That was probably easier said than done, though, Floyd thought. He watched with trepidation as the helicopter aligned itself with the gaping hole in the mountain side.

“You all go first,” Rick ordered his soldiers. He doesn’t bother telling Floyd the same, knowing that the hitman would refuse to leave without him, that protective son of a bitch. The Colonel held his breath as he stood back and let his team leap onto their ride home.

Luckily Waylon was there to help out on the other side, making sure that those who fell slightly short on their jump made it to safety.

A large rumble alerted Floyd and Rick to the fact that the earth beneath them was beginning to collapse. They were swift to lose their balance as the rocks below shifted downwards. Rick pushed Floyd forwards to make the jump before it was too late.

Waylon just about caught the hitman’s hand and dragged him up into the chopper.

“Never again am I doing that,” Floyd bit out, his eyes flew around trying to find Rick. He found him; he was still on the mountain. The Colonel was frowning, looking like he was about to leap across. “Rick, come on,” Floyd shouted out, his blood pressure couldn’t stand this much longer.

Rick jumped.

A boulder knocked him down.

Floyd didn’t cry out, just flung himself forwards fearlessly, arms out-stretched. He caught Rick’s hands in his own and held on for dear life.

They weren’t falling. Why weren’t they falling?

Rick’s eyes were glued to Floyd’s. They were wide with fear.

The hitman felt the large, vice-like grip of Waylon’s hands tighten around his ankles. Go squad, he thought. Floyd owed these guys; he owed them everything.

“Don’t worry guys, we’ve got you,” Harley cried.

“Just fucking hold on you pieces of shit,” Chato added.

Floyd tried not to panic but his arms were beginning to strain and his palms were sweating beneath his gloves.

“Don’t drop me Floyd or I swear to God-,” Rick said, his voice cracking.

He was trying to be light-hearted about this. Floyd could tell. But it was failing miserably. “I’m not going to drop you, I promise,” Floyd panted. “If you go, I go.”

A smile flitted across Rick’s pale face. “That’s not all that reassuring, but thanks.”

Slowly, Floyd began to feel himself being pulled upwards. Finally. It was a devastatingly gradual process, but eventually the squad managed to heave both Floyd and Rick into the helicopter.

Cooper slammed the door closed behind them.

Everyone was breathing heavily.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Waylon growled.

Floyd laid on his back, hands over his face, not yet able to process what had just happened.

Rick was on his knees by the closed door, gaping at his squad and friends, who weren’t in much better shape. “Thanks, guys,” he croaked. “Fuck.” The Colonel slumped to his side, his limbs suddenly overcome with the fatigue from the his overall shitty day. Also, the ache of his previous concussion had made a reappearance, brilliant.

Floyd nudged his friend’s, boyfriend’s?, leg with his foot. “You alright over there, Rick?”

“No, I’m retiring,” came the muffled reply. “This mission has aged me ten years I swear.”

The hitman sat up, eyeing the Colonel softly, and moved to wrap his arms around Rick.

“You guys suck and I hate you all,” Katana announced, retaking her seat and strapping herself in. “Let’s get out of here already.”

“I second that,” Harley said, standing. “The getting out of here part, anyway. I love the squad. Glad you didn’t die Ricky.”

Rick grunted in response; he wasn’t ready to function yet.

“Should I tell the pilot to take us back to Belle Reve, Colonel?” Cooper asked from the sidelines.

“Yeah,” Floyd said, taking the liberty of answering for his friend, boyfriend? “Just, yeah. Thanks.”

The Lieutenant accepted the response and ducked into the cockpit.

“We better strap in unless we want to get thrown about,” Floyd hauled Rick up off the floor. The Colonel was just about able to find his own seat but Floyd could tell the man was exhausted. He sat down next to Rick, nudging him slightly. “Are you going to update Waller on the rescue?”

“Hey,” Digger said. “Did you actually shoot Waller or what?”

Rick had completely forgotten about that part of his day. “Yeah, I did.”

“You fucking killed Waller?” Floyd grabbed Rick’s shoulder. “How?”

“I didn’t kill her, you dick,” Rick rolled his eyes. “We worked it out before hand-”

“There’s this procedure that if someone is shot in the chest, puncturing a certain space between two specific ribs will stop them from drowning in their own blood,” Katana said. “It’ll give the victim a greater chance of survival, if executed properly, that is.”

Floyd stared at Rick. “Is that what happened?”

Rick nodded.

“I didn’t think you’d have the balls,” Floyd admitted.

“Me neither to be honest mate,” Digger added.

Chato just shrugged.

Rick sighed, “I don’t know what to do with you people anymore.”

“I believed you could do it,” Harley chimed, smiling. “You’d do anything for Floyd, and us. And us too, right?” She cocked her head.

Rick spluttered.

…

Back at Belle Reve, each squad member received a medical check, on Waller’s orders, before they were allowed to be escorted back to their cells.

Rick opted to walk them all back personally, one by one. He took the time to make sure they were well, chat a little, and thank them for all their hard work with the squad. The Colonel had never felt so fulfilled with his job.

“You know,” Harley said as Rick gently closed her cell door. “This is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The squad, I mean.”

Rick didn’t know what to say.

“We’re family, don’t you think?” Harley’s smile was so sweet and pure.

Rick couldn’t help but grin back. “Sure we are. One big dysfunctional family unit.”

Harley giggled.

“Don’t you be getting up to mischief now,” the Colonel teased as he backed away.

“Don’t make too much of a mess of Floyd’s cell,” Harley winked.

God, Rick thought. Did the whole squad know? They had been pretty obvious, he supposed. Rick rubbed his hands over his face as he headed back to where Floyd would be waiting after his check up. They really needed to discuss their relationship; that talk was way overdue.

…

“I still can’t believe you shot Waller, “ Floyd smirked as they wound their way through Belle Reve towards the hitman’s cell.

“What? No comment about my balls this time?” Rick said, an eyebrow raised.

Floyd laughed.

They reached his cell in no time and after entering, Rick shut the door behind them.

Floyd’s dark eyes ran up and down the other man’s figure, appreciating the fact that Rick was out of uniform that day. “You wanna make out?”

Rick bit his lip. He really did, but they also knew they needed to talk.

Floyd noted his hesitation. He approached the Colonel slowly, reaching out to lay his hands on Rick’s hips and kissed his neck softly.

Rick tipped his head back. After a minute he gave in. “I paid off the security guy,” he said. “The camera’s off until I tell him.”

Floyd paused and peered into the other’s eyes. “So we have privacy?” A cheeky grin appeared.

Rick felt his cheeks heat up. He nodded, “Want to use it wisely?”

“Oh, definitely,” Floyd captured Rick’s lips with his own.

Screw talking; they could do that another time.

…

It was bizarre to see Waller laid up in a hospital; she was so vulnerable, it didn’t suit her. Rick lingered in the doorway of her private room. He’d come to debrief her on the mission, but looking at his boss made the Colonel regret his decision to interrupt her rest, even if Waller had requested it of him.

“You coming in or what?” She smirked gently.

Rick shut the door behind him and pulled a seat up to the bedside.

“I presume you bring me good news,” Waller eyed him. “I hope you didn’t shoot me for nothing.”

“The rescue was a success,” Rick assured her, passing over the pad with all of the relevant information about the status of the squad, his black ops team, and the fates of both Luthor and Graves.

Waller scanned through it all carefully. Eventually she placed the pad on her lap and smiled. “You did a good job, Flag,” she told him. “The squad too. Tell them I’ll make sure their rewards are negotiated after I’m permitted to leave this place.”

“I’ll pass it on,” Rick said. His lips twitching into a nervous smile; he’d never seen Waller quite like this before. She was almost pleasant. “They’ll appreciate it.”

Waller hummed. “So, how long have you been sleeping with Lawton?”

Rick choked. “What? I’m not- I don’t- Never. I mean- Um…” All the blood had rushed to his face.

“Don’t try to deny it Rick,” Waller chided. “I’ve got my own set of security cameras in the squad’s cells; I see everything.”

“Oh.” Rick had never felt so humiliated, and violated?

“I’m guessing you didn’t know that,” Waller raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t watch, don’t worry. But I have to say, I’ve never seen anyone so into their foreplay.”

“Oh my god,” Rick’s eyes bugged. He stood corrected; right now he’d never felt so humiliated. “That’s it, I’m resigning.”

Waller laughed and Rick nearly fell out of his chair from shock.

“Maybe it’s the painkillers, but I’m gonna to allow whatever the fuck is going with you two to continue,” Waller said. “But don’t let it compromise you, Rick; my view on that still stands. Now, fuck off will you.”

Rick stood up and saluted, then he turned and fled the room as fast as humanly possible. He could barely believe what he’d just witnessed. What had his life come to?


	10. Chapter 10

  
It had been last week when he’d suggested it.

“What?” Floyd had raised an eyebrow as he laid sprawled out on his bed, gazing up at the colonel who lingered by his cell door. A wide grin had broken out across his face as Floyd sat up. “Rick Flag, are you asking me out on a date?”

Rick recalled the way the blood had flooded to his cheeks. “Well, it’s technically for your birthday but I-uh, yes. Yes I am.” He had cleared his throat. “You haven’t cashed in on your reward from the last mission yet, so I was thinking we could go on a day-trip somewhere. Zoë can come along too if you want?”

The colonel would never forget the expression on Floyd’s face in that moment. He was sure that his heart melted.

Reaching Floyd’s cell door now, Rick wasn’t at all nervous, unlike he’d been that day. Now the two of them were on the same page and he couldn’t be happier.

Rick had the cell opened in record time. His hands didn’t even shake as he did so.

Floyd was leaning against the cell wall, dressed in the civilian clothes he’d requested a few days ago. Rick tried not to gape, but failed. Floyd rolled his eyes and gently pulled the colonel in for a kiss.

“Floyd,” Rick gasped. “We’ll be late. Zoë’s waiting.”

Floyd pressed his lips to the other man’s cheek one last time before stepping back. “Fine. Later, then.” He slipped his fingers around Rick’s wrist and led the colonel out of the cell.

…

Rick had convinced Waller that he could drive the three of them to their destination, without the immediate supervision of his black ops team. Nothing said family outing like the presence of ten highly armed persons in black. So, Rick was allocated a black SUV, with bulletproof everything no doubt, which had plenty of room for the trio.

“So where are we going exactly?” Zoë stared out the window, watching as Gotham City flew past.

“Yeah Rick, ever gonna let us in on this secret of yours?”

Rick grinned. “Patience, you two.”

“Asshole,” Floyd muttered under his breath. He shifted in his seat so that he could see Zoë in the back. “This is Rick and I’s first date, you know, pumpkin. So…yeah, that’s a thing now.”

Zoë squealed, clapping her hands together.

The car swerved.

“Rick, what the hell?!” Floyd had both hands gripping the seat.

Order was restored. Rick let out a long breath. “Sorry; the scream, I panicked.”

“Oh my god Rick, you’re truly precious.” Floyd rolled his eyes, only just recovering from the whole ordeal himself. He dropped a hand onto the colonel’s thigh.

Zoë was smiling madly. “I can’t believe you’re finally dating. It took you forever.”

Floyd turned to look at his daughter again. “You’re not surprised.”

Zoë raised an eyebrow and cocked her head.

“Fair enough,” Floyd conceded defeat.

“I will approve only if you promise to make me a bridesmaid at your wedding,” Zoë added. “Which is inevitable by the way. I’m calling it.”

“Sure thing sweetie,” Floyd said, winking at Rick when the colonel caught his eye. Then laughed as Rick blushed.

…

“I’m not sitting in the middle,” Zoë said as they found their seats in the stadium. She rolled her eyes at the men’s affronted looks. “I don’t want to get in-between your weird mating-rituals.” Zoë took the seat at the end of the row, not prepared to compromise.

Floyd and Rick let her, too weak to refuse such a trivial thing. Floyd sat in the middle of the two most important people in his world. “I can’t believe you actually got ice-hockey tickets,” he shook his head.

Rick shrugged. “You said you wanted to see the game.”

“You’re a marshmallow really, aren’t you?” Floyd slipped his fingers in-between Rick’s, interlinking them. “You just pretend to be tough all the time. But I’ll have you know, I can see right through you now. No more fooling me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the colonel denied, a small smile on his lips.

Needless to say the couple held hands throughout and Rick could focus on nothing else but the constant warmth of Floyd’s palm and fingers against his own.

In fact, none of them really followed ice-hockey. Floyd had only wanted to see it because he appreciated the skill and violence of the game. Whereas Rick was only there to put a smile on the other man’s face. And let’s be honest, Zoë spent most of the time gazing lovingly up at the pair of idiots.

“We should bring the squad to a rink sometime,” Rick suggested as the crowd roared after a goal.

Floyd chuckled. “I would pay to see those guys on ice. Oh my god, Chato would hate it.” He bumped Rick’s shoulder with his own. “Next time,” he promised.

“Can I take pictures?” Zoë teased.

Floyd wrapped an arm around his daughter’s shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. “Sure you can, right Rick?”

Rick smiled. “Someone’ll have to.”

“Does that mean you’d be on the ice too?” Floyd had a mischievous look in his eye that Rick was instantly wary of. “You’d either be super elegant or absolutely awful, I haven’t decided which yet…” He let go of the colonel’s hand to stroke his thumb across Rick’s cheek softly.

Rick rolled his eyes, outwardly unaffected. But really, his heart just melted again.

…

The black ops team had been covertly dotted around the vicinity of the stadium and quickly escorted the trio to the restaurant after the game had ended.

“Boyfriends have to sit opposite each other, Dad,” Zoë told him as they went to sit down at their reserved table.

Rick choked on his own saliva. The waitress, however, was completely unfazed.

“Of course, honey,” Floyd chuckled as he pulled out a chair for his daughter to take her seat. “My mistake.”

Zoë stuck her tongue out at him.

As the colonel sat down opposite Floyd, Rick felt like he was free-falling. His pulse was galloping. He could really get used to this, and that thought alone was terrifying. Yet at the same time, it really wasn’t.

…

“This place is fancy, holy shit,” Floyd gaped as he stepped into the hotel room. “No way is Waller is letting you spend her money on this.” He spun to face the colonel, dragging his eyes over the details of the other man’s face.

Rick closed the door behind them. He shrugged. “Maybe Waller doesn’t know she’s paying for this.” The security camera incident floods into Rick’s mind and he flushes bright red. He moves around Floyd to try and hide his sudden embarrassment.

Floyd grabbed the man’s elbow. “Hey, what is it? Hey.” He seeks out Rick’s eyes.

“It’s just, God, this is so embarrassing.” Rick mumbled, running his hands over his face. “I think I died and came back to life.”

Floyd’s lips twitched into a smile. “What? What did you do?”

“It’s Waller,” Rick said.

Floyd frowned, not expecting that at all. “Okay… what about her?”

“So it turns out she has her own security cameras in the squad’s cells…” Rick added in a way of explanation, really not wanting to spell it out for the man. “And uh, remember that time when…”

“Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit. Fuck.”

Rick closed his eyes, feeling the hot stab of embarrassment return. “Yeah…”

A few moments passed as Floyd processed exactly how much Waller got an eyeball of. The hitman sighed. He planted a kiss against Rick’s neck. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to practice more, if we’re going to have an audience at Belle Reve.”

“Floyd, don’t joke about this,” Rick groaned.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Floyd’s lips sucked softly on the colonel’s neck. “Why don’t we forget about that for now, huh? I can think of better things we can be doing.”

Rick chuckled, his hands finding Floyd’s hips. “I’m sure you can.”

“We have the room until the morning, right?”

Rick hummed, distracted by the other’s busy lips.

“Good,” Floyd said, clasping their hands together to pull Rick against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone for reading, it means a lot. 
> 
> Also, a big thank you to all those who have commented; you've all been so supportive and your enthusiasm really helped me to finish writing this. :) 
> 
> So basically, you're all amazing. Thanks!!

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to everyone who left such lovely comment on the previous parts in this series; they're wonderful motivation boosters. Thanks for all the support in general. 
> 
> This fic is named after an awesome song in the Suicide Squad album- which I totally recommend listening to.


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